• • •
In the morning, I kissed Chloe good-bye and told her we’d talk later. I needed to drive to the marina and see what kind of damage had been caused by the storm, but I also needed to get my head together for what I would say to her later.
After checking on everything at work and home, which amounted to minimal wind damage and nothing else, I headed into town. I hadn’t been taking care of myself, and I got a long-overdue haircut and shave. Then I wandered into a men’s clothing store, where a perky young sales associate helped me pick out a couple of pairs of jeans—apparently, my waist had gone down a size—and a polo shirt that she said brought out the green in my eyes. I knew she was flirting and ignored her, as all my energy was focused on Chloe.
I went home, made reservations at a local restaurant, and then took a shower. I’d texted Chloe earlier, letting her know I’d pick her up at five.
Once I was ready—complete with styling gel in my hair, aftershave on my jaw, and wearing the new clothes I’d bought earlier—I looked in the mirror. I felt like a new man.
God, why had I waited so long to do this? Chloe was the most important person in my life. She was who I leaned on after Samantha’s death, literally and figuratively. Just knowing that she was there, that I could drive over to her place and be there in three minutes if shit really got hard, was enough to get me through most days.
And she’d done so much for me—packed up all of Samantha’s stuff, and dealt with getting it over to her parents. That was something I couldn’t have done alone. Or maybe I could have, but it would have taken a couple of bottles of whiskey, and it wouldn’t have been pretty.
I grabbed my wallet and phone and then headed over to pick up Chloe.
Jason answered the door and gave me a once-over, looking up and down my body. On the ride over, I wanted to go to the main house first, my way of acknowledging that I wanted to stop sneaking around behind her brother’s back.
“You cleaned up,” he said.
I nodded. It was certainly different from the board shorts and surf T-shirts I usually wore. “Is Chloe here?”
“Yeah, she just went upstairs to get ready. Said you two were going out?”
“To dinner. She and I need to have a long-overdue talk.”
He nodded. “Anything you need to share with me?”
“Not yet. Let me talk to Chloe first.”
“Okay, good luck.” And then he closed the door.
Before I could get up to her apartment, Chloe was already starting down the stairs. She was dressed in a pair of skinny jeans and a red halter top. She looked fucking hot.
“Are you ready?” I asked.
She nodded as her gaze skated over my appearance, just like Jason’s had, but she didn’t mention it. “Yeah. Am I dressed okay? I wasn’t sure what you had planned.”
“You look great.”
We got into my truck and I pulled out onto the main road.
“I thought we could go down to the beach at Hunter’s Cove, then have dinner later if you’re up for it.”
Her gaze snapped over to mine. “We haven’t been there since we were kids.”
“I know. That okay?”
A small smile graced her lips. “Sounds cool.”
This was nice, this easygoing sense of peace I felt near her. Things had been way too tense lately, but I knew when I told her what was really on my mind, that sweet smile on her face would fade quickly.
I pulled into the gravel parking lot beside the beach, and we climbed out. A few minutes later we were strolling down the lazy stretch of beach.
“Remember when we carved our names into that tree?” she asked, and I followed her gaze down to the small clump of trees at the other end of the protected beach. “I wonder if it’s still there.”
We started toward the small grove of trees. It took us a few minutes, but soon we were standing in the same spot we had fifteen years ago, running our fingers over the rough initials I’d carved with my pocketknife.
“Things were a lot different back then,” Chloe said sadly.
“Not that different. It’s still me and you against the world, Sunshine.”
She nodded and let me take her hand, leading her down toward the beach, where we sat in the sand.
“There are a lot of things I’ve been putting off saying to you,” I told her. “I know you tried to get me talking a few times, but what can I say? I’m a stubborn ass.”
“I understand, Shaw. You’ve been through so much this year. Getting married and then losing Samantha like that. I’ve just wanted to know that you’re okay. And yeah, sometimes I’ve wanted to understand what you and I were doing.”